Dream Lover
by Tom Beaumont
Summary: An exhausted George has a dream about Izzie...or does he? Rated M for sexual content.


**Dream Lover**

_**Tom Sez:** My first new work here in some time...very steamy stuff..._

_As Peaches and Herb once sang:_ Reunited/And it feels so good...

_Hope you like!_

**Disclaiming...disclaiming...disclaiming...done.**

* * *

The seemingly endless day had finally given over to night. George tottered his way home from the bus stop, body heavy with the weight of seventeen hours spent running from one emergency to another and back again. Izzie had seen him at the post outside the hospital, even offered him a ride home, but he turned it down. There was no sense in her driving forty-some blocks out of her way when they were both exhausted, he had said. Looking back, he should have accepted, he thought. But how could he know the bus would be an hour late, and or that he'd have to bide his time trying not to fall asleep on an icy iron and concrete bench?

His stomach had been growling all along the ride home too, but once the key hit the lock at his front door, the young doctor's need to put his hunger away had been swallowed by his desire for rest. He soldiered toward his bedroom, head and shoulders slumping, and shed his backpack and shoes before he was even at the door. He noticed that Lexie's door was closed, and for a moment he thought about poking his head in to say good night, but then remembered that she was pulling a mandatory double – which he didn't envy at all – and besides that, after a day like this one, him being as worn out as he was, he wasn't going to be worth much after a while.

He stripped off his T-shirt and jeans and collapsed onto the bed. His body almost immediately settled into the pillow-top of the mattress, relaxing so rapidly that it would have startled him - if had he been conscious enough to react. Only a sliver of his awareness remained, flickering like a dying fluorescent bulb.

And as it flickered, it registered a temperature change in the room. A soft warming of the air.

Then the tail-end of a swinging wooden creak.

Breath sounds. Deliberately light.

The swish of fabric. Snaps.

Weight next to him. Heat and tender pressure against the length of his body.

Sweet scents of vanilla and lilac and cool, clear rain.

Through the clouds of sleep, his conscious mind connected the dots.

"Izzie?" he exhaled.

"_Shhh_," came the reply.

And while the parts of George's brain that were sleeping and unaware continued in that mode, that flickering piece of his consciousness registered the pleasures of loving caresses down his spine, over his hips, and down the backs of his thighs.

Somehow his mind lifted him outside of his body and suspended him over the proceedings. His mind's eye watched with wonder as the most beautiful woman he had ever known lay naked next to him, her creamy, curvy form close to his. She began to follow her gentle hands with tender kisses on his neck and shoulder. He watched her red lips form a sweet smile as he sighed at every touch.

And then he noticed her hand disappearing over the crest of his hip, and sliding underneath the front of his boxer shorts. Taking hold of him. And then, long, slow strokes, all while she continued to press herself against his back, and kiss his neck insistently.

SuspendedGeorge watched his sleeping counterpart's lips open. "What are you doing to me?" he gasped.

"_Whatever I want_," she whispered, and when he tried to mumble a protest, "…_shhh_…" she added, as her hand picked up speed, and her kisses grew wetter and more intense. She began to move down his back, then over his right side. She pressed her lips against his hip bone, then grazed them against his pelvis, her hand still quickly manipulating him. Then, with her free hand, she tugged his shorts away. SuspendedGeorge began to notice the rising energy in his legs and belly – a pressure was building in him that was setting off the alarms throughout his brain, and it was sending out the wake-up call.

Below, the sleeper's hips were beginning to jostle and buck as Izzie's nimble hands continued their quest. He was moaning and sighing and groaning as she guided him to the inevitable conclusion. George's back jerked upward as he burst, and then settled back into the mattress with a slow, deliberate roll. Izzie kissed his stomach tenderly, and lingered for a while. He even thought he heard her whisper an '_I love you_,' but music was rising in his eardrums, and then he started to notice the sensation of falling – like a feather at first, but one that was rapidly becoming a bowling ball.

George's eyes snapped open on impact. They saw the glowing blue numbers of his alarm clock. But no Izzie.

He noticed that the door was open. He could see his trail of clothes.

There was no sign she'd ever been there. George snorted. Of course he had dreamed it. Reality wasn't ever going to be that kind to him again.

* * *

Lexie found Izzie at a surprisingly active fifth-floor nurses' station. "You paged me, Doctor?" she asked.

Izzie looked up from a tall stack of binders, and found the intern's eyes. She looked a bit distracted. "Yeah," she replied. "I have that chart for you."

Lexie frowned. "Chart?"

Izzie shook her head in disbelief. "Yes," she groaned. "The **_chart_**."

Lexie's brown eyes went from cloudy to clear as she caught on. "Oh, right! The chart you asked me to give you last night."

"Uh-huh," Izzie said as she handed the binder past the other doctors who were talking about one patient history or another. "Thanks for letting me use it."

"Sure," the younger doctor replied, opening the binder and seeing the bronze key clipped fast to the board. She closed the binder again, and searched the resident's eyes. "Did you get whatever you wanted?"

A tiny spark of joy crossed Izzie's face, which she tried to disguise as interest in a Post-It note at the station. "Yeah," she said, working on sounding distracted.

Lexie hid a smile of her own. "Did you – maybe – want to borrow it again?"

"No," Izzie replied, biting into her lip. "I made my own copy before work this morning - if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Lexie replied, and added with a smile, "I mean, isn't that what colleagues are for?"

**THE END**


End file.
